Lay Down the Sword
by Jedi Sapphire
Summary: Éowyn is Princess of Ithilien. She has given up battle, but battle will not give her up so easily.


**Disclaimer:** Not one Elf.

**Author's Note: **I'm using this for the PTSD square on my HC Bingo. Many thanks to Melethril for prodding.

**Summary:** Éowyn is Princess of Ithilien. She has given up battle, but battle will not give her up so easily.

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**Lay Down the Sword**

Éowyn woke with a start. For a moment she stared in bewilderment at the canopy of leaves above her head, and then she remembered where she was. Ithilien. The Elven… settlement, she supposed she should call it. The Elves seemed to think of it as nothing more permanent than a guard camp, although they intended to spend at least thirty or forty years reviving the forest.

Her heart was beating wildly in the after-effects of her dream. Night after night she saw the Witch-king of Angmar strike down her uncle, saw him kill Theoden, kill Merry, kill Éomer and Faramir and Aragorn, before he turned his sword on Éowyn.

In those dreams, Éowyn could never defend. In those dreams the Witch-king was undefeated.

She had done all she could to find peace. She had put away her sword, giving up the title of Shieldmaiden of Rohan for the gentler one of Princess of Ithilien. She had sat at the loom until she had woven enough fine linen to clothe the entire population of Edoras. She had read trade proposals until her mind was numb. She had made polite conversation with the ladies of court, haggled with the horse traders, and even, in a fit of desperation, gone to the kitchens and spent an evening stirring the soup.

Finally, not knowing what else to do, she had come to Ithilien.

She had not said anything to the Elves about her difficulties.

Their few months' acquaintance had taught her much about her new friends – most of it learnt from Legolas' friend Aeroniel, who was the most willing to speak of what the Woodland Realm had endured under the growing shadow.

How could Éowyn stand before Elves who had known centuries of war, who had seen parents and siblings slain before their eyes, who had had to kill dear friends to spare them the torments of Dol Guldur, and say that she could not sleep because she had nightmares of the Pelennor Fields?

Éowyn blushed for her own weakness.

All the same, she knew she would sleep no more that night.

She got to her feet, dressed, and scrambled down the rope ladder that had been left in the talan for her benefit and Faramir's. Éowyn was glad Faramir had been able to come with her. She had been brought up on the vast grassy plains of Rohan; the idea of sleeping by herself in a tree terrified her.

Faramir was not there.

The talan beside theirs, shared by Aeroniel and Rochendilwen, was empty as well. Éowyn had learnt enough of Elves' sleeping habits to expect that most of the telain would be deserted. The sons of Elrond had arrived that morning, breaking their journey from Minas Tirith to their home in Rivendell. No doubt they had chosen not to waste the night on sleep.

The Elves must be nearby – they would not have left her alone – but she could not see them.

She was just contemplating going into the forest to look for them when there was a murmur behind her.

"Should you not be sleeping, Lady Éowyn?"

Éowyn jumped and just suppressed a scream. She turned to see Legolas contemplating her with undisguised amusement. His golden hair shone in the moonlight; Éowyn did not know how she had failed to see it. Or hear him.

"Were you looking for somebody?" he asked.

"I could not sleep."

Legolas shook his head. "Lord Faramir is by the river, being taught archery by Saeldur and Rochendilwen and the sons of Elrond. With that many teachers clamouring to give advice, I do not know how much he will learn, but it will certainly be amusing. I do not suppose you wish to join them?"

"I do not want to see another bow as long as I live!" Éowyn said violently.

Then, realizing what she had said, she shot a quick glance at Legolas, hoping she had given no offence.

Legolas laughed. "I do not blame you." Then he sobered. "Lady Éowyn, there is no shame in experiencing some… difficulties… after all that you have seen and done."

"I cannot sleep," Éowyn confessed. "I thought… it was better for a time, but now… I see him in my dreams, the Witch-king. I hear him. It is as though he is before me. I feel like he lurks in the shadows, waiting to drag me to perdition." She shivered. "So many died that day."

"Too many," Legolas said quietly. "Have you not spoken to Faramir of how you feel?"

"I do not want to worry him. He does worry about me. He tries to help, but… I _wanted _to be a warrior. I was a Shieldmaiden. I thought I could defend my people if it came to the uttermost end."

"You did defend them. You fought with great honour and slew a mighty foe."

"And now I am a frightened child! I do not know how to make the dreams stop."

Legolas let out a breath. There was a moment's silence, and then he said, "When I was a novice warrior – older than you are now, though, Lady Éowyn – my mother was murdered. I still dream of it sometimes."

Éowyn turned to him sharply. "_You!_ But – you are an Elf. I thought… Can you not control your dreams?"

"Normally, I can. Sometimes…" Legolas shrugged. "There are difficult nights. It is far better than it was in the beginning. For months I could not sleep at all without a draught."

"So I will always have nightmares?"

"Perhaps not. Mortals have an odd resilience, I have seen. And even among the Eldar, there are some who are not so strongly affected. My father has seen far worse than I have, but he sleeps peacefully enough."

"Your father must be… very old," Éowyn murmured. "And wise."

Legolas smiled. "The compliment of wisdom he will accept with gratitude, but do not let him hear you call him old."

"If… If you will forgive my asking, how long has it been since your mother… since she…"

Legolas' smile turned a little sad, and Éowyn regretted her question. But then he said, "It has been centuries, Lady Éowyn. Your grandfather's grandfather's grandfather had not been born."

"You must miss her."

"I do. Every day."

"My uncle…" Éowyn bit her lip. "Uncle Theoden was the only father I ever knew. I wish I had been in time to save him."

Legolas only nodded. Éowyn was immeasurably grateful that he made no remarks about how she had saved her uncle in a way. Too many people had told her that; it was not the point, and, for the first time, she felt as though someone understood.

She felt that, perhaps, the Elven-prince might understand what she had never yet dared say aloud to anyone.

"Sometimes I feel as though I do not _want _that the nightmares should end. I do not want to forget."

"You feel guilty. You feel as though it is an insult to his memory that you have learnt to laugh again." Legolas' expression was very serious. "I admit I did not know King Theoden well, Lady Éowyn, but from what little I saw of him, he loved you as a daughter. After he lost his son, it was his heart's dearest wish that _you _should be happy. You do him no dishonour."

Éowyn had told herself as much.

But it helped to have someone else say it.

"It will take time, as you reckon it," Legolas went on quietly, "but eventually the bitterness of loss will fade, and you will have only happy memories of your uncle. Peace will come, Lady Éowyn. You will know it when you can bear to hear your uncle's name mentioned without feeling anew all the grief and pain of his loss."

"Can you? Bear to hear your mother mentioned?"

Legolas almost flinched. "Sometimes." He shot a swift glance at Éowyn. "As I said, Men have an odd resilience in these matters. Perhaps this, too, is the gift of the One."

Éowyn tried to think of a response, but there was none. At last she said simply, "Will you take me to the river? I do not want to bear arms again but perhaps… perhaps I will watch Faramir. He has always admired Elven archers. It must be one of his dearest wishes come true to have so many Elves willing to teach him archery."

Legolas' eyes showed amusement and understanding.

"Considering that Saeldur and Rochendilwen, at least, learnt what they know of the art of teaching from Lord Thorontur, I do not know whether Faramir will still want to learn from Elven archers in the morning. I will take you there. Perhaps you can help him rally his flagging spirits. By this time he must be in need of cheer."

Éowyn laughed and let the Elf lead her through the trees.

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